


she's a killer queen

by tartymoriarty



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Freddie in THAT outfit, I Want To Break Free music video, M/M, Maycury Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:50:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartymoriarty/pseuds/tartymoriarty
Summary: Brian finds himself somewhat distracted during the filming of I Want To Break Free. Freddie can't blame him.





	she's a killer queen

**Author's Note:**

> Did I come trotting online at midnight purely to post this for the very start of Maycury Week? Absofuckinglutely.
> 
> If you've not read about Maycury Week already, check out freddie-mercurial's tumblr for more info!
> 
> Prompt: lingerie.

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You will. I know you.”

“Darling, I promise you, I won’t laugh! Just come out, we’re all in the same boat here, there’s no reason for you to – ”

Freddie jumps back as Brian opens the door suddenly. He immediately forgets whatever placation he’d been about to use to encourage Brian out because the sight of Brian standing there in a frilly pink monstrosity of a nightgown is enough to drive any coherent thought from his mind. For a moment he just gapes. Then his gaze slides down and he sees stripy socks and fluffy bunny slippers and that’s it; he bursts out laughing.

Brian glares at him, but without heat. He doesn’t say anything until Freddie’s regained composure, and then he gripes, “What happened to _no laughing, darling, really!_?”

“That’s not what I sound like,” Freddie says automatically, as he does every single time Brian mimics him, but all the same he wipes at his eyes and makes a valiant effort to swallow back the rest of the giggles he can feel building in his chest whenever he so much as glances towards the slippers. “It was the – ” He gestures at Brian’s feet, keeping his eyes firmly away from them. “I wasn’t expecting them. Took me by surprise.”

“I thought you were supposed to be in costume and ready?” Brian grouches.

“I am, but Roger heard you muttering to yourself in there and I just couldn’t resist waiting for you.” Freddie reaches out and plucks at the pink silky fabric; Brian swats his hand away. “And I’m so glad I did,” Freddie adds in a coo, because Brian is just too much fun to tease, “look at you, dear – ”

“Alright, alright – ” Brian grabs Freddie by the shoulders and bodily turns him around, marching him back towards the room that’s been taken over by their various dressers. “Let’s get a look at you in yours, shall we? Not that yours is anywhere near as bad – ”

“Oh hush, you love it,” Freddie says, wriggling out of Brian’s grip and turning round to arch a quick eyebrow at him before one of the dressers inevitably whisks him away. “You couldn’t wait to get into it, you big tart.”

He catches a glimpse of Brian’s mouth twitching, fighting back a smile, before he gets swept into the rails of hangers and clothing options for the video shoot.

Freddie has seen sketches of his outfit (and bitched about them, and crumpled them up, and contributed his own sketches), but there are still changes to be made. There are always changes to be made, because Freddie does not like to settle for ‘good enough’ in any scenario and this video is no different.

“I just think it’s better if you can see the bra strap, nude is all very well but black suits the character so much better – ”

“Do you think I should go for a darker lippy?”

“The skirt would look so much better if it was just a _tiny_ bit shorter, honestly.”

Roger, lounging in the doorway in full schoolgirl regalia and watching with no small amount of amusement, snorts at this. “Haven’t you already lopped about five inches off that skirt?”

Freddie chooses to ignore this, because it is in fact true, but he still does a twirl for Roger when he’s finally dressed and happy with the outfit to boot. Roger wolf-whistles and says, “Just don’t bend over too much, I’m getting already getting a bit of an eyeful.”

“You should be so lucky,” Freddie tells him, walking a few paces about the dressing room to test his heels (the third pair he’d tried on, regrettably, because his initial choice of stiletto had been a tad ambitious). “You should see the knickers I’ve got on, they’re really something.”

“I think I can live without that, thanks. Have you seen Deaky?”

“No. Give me a second, then I’ll come and find him with you.”

Freddie stops in front of the full length mirror and eyes himself critically, looking for any last minute changes that need making. There’s nothing that he can spot; he looks outrageous enough to cause a stir, especially with the moustache. Freddie does like to cause a stir.

He looks hot, actually, he thinks, turning to one side and eyeing the way the skirt hugs his ass. His legs look great, long and lean, and he gives the padded bra an experimental squeeze, admiring how the outfit lends him new curves.

“I’d look good with tits,” he says thoughtfully.

“If you say so,” says Roger. “Come on, stop eye-fucking yourself and let’s find John.”

When they do find Deaky they spend the next five minutes laughing uproariously at the new grandmotherly edition of their bass player. Deaky bears the laughter with only a slight grimace, and starts himself when Brian joins them – they’ve finished off his outfit with rollers nestled securely in his hair, which would have set Freddie off again, if not for the way Brian reacts to him.

Brian stops as soon as he sees him, his mouth hanging open. His eyes travel from Freddie’s wig, the garish earrings and bubblegum lipstick, past the figure-hugging tank top, down to the tiny black skirt and the tights below it. For a moment he seems incapable of speech, which, for Brian, is really saying something. Then he blurts out, “How come you get to look _sexy_?”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Roger starts to laugh and before long John joins in, the two of them wheezing at the incredulous look on Brian’s face. Freddie laughs too and pretends to preen a bit, but in truth the way Brian is _looking_ at him sends a flood of sudden warmth through his belly and – well. It’s not exactly expected, but that isn’t to say it’s unpleasant.

“All that fussing over the length of your skirt was worth it, Fred,” Roger says eventually, smirking, “if even _Brian_ takes one look at it and wants you bend you over.”

Brian goes a bit pink at that, so Freddie steps in quickly to deflect the attention, firing a smirk right back at Roger. “Come off it, Rog,” he says dismissively, “that’s nothing compared to the way you were lurking in the doorway as I was getting changed.”

It works; Roger squawks with indignation. John pats Roger delicately on the shoulder. “Come to think of it, you lurked when I got changed too,” he says with mock thoughtfulness. Roger splutters at him.

Freddie tunes them out, looking back at Brian. Brian’s eyes are fixed on the black bra strap peeping out from under Freddie’s top.

Freddie waits til Brian looks away. When he realises Freddie is watching him, he blinks and opens his mouth, then closes it, looking unsure of himself. Freddie doesn’t comment; he just gives Brian a small, secret smile. Brian gives him a look that could almost be classed as nervous, then gives him a small smile back.

It’s enough for now, but Freddie’s curiosity is officially piqued.

“Come on,” says Freddie, sweeping ahead as much as he can in his heels, “let’s get this show on the road.”

-

It’s a fun video to film. They’re splitting it into parts, so today they only have to focus on the house part of the shoot; the rest of it will be filmed tomorrow. Freddie is glad, not least because he doesn’t fancy the idea of getting in and out of these bloody suspenders repeatedly.

It’s not the only reason he’s glad, though. Brian can’t take his eyes off him throughout the entire shoot and Freddie can’t pretend it doesn’t give him something of a thrill.

He’s noticed Brian looking at him before, of course he has. Brian is not as subtle as he thinks he is, and they’ve known each other a long time. Many years of friendship inevitably means a variety of conversations had under the influence of alcohol. Brian isn’t really a heavy drinker, but he gets very _earnest_ when he’s knocked back a few beers and a whiskey or two to boot.

Freddie hasn’t mentioned it since, isn’t entirely sure if Brian even remembers, but he’s got very fond memories of one particular tipsy conversation. It was on the eve of the final night of their first solo tour, and he and Brian had ended up sitting shoulder-to-shoulder against the wall in a quiet little back room whilst the party carried on, raucous and exuberant next door. They’d sat in silence for a while, comfortable in each other’s company, before Brian had begun to reminisce about the best parts of the tour and look forward to _Queen’s_ future.

“You’re something special, you know,” he’d said, out of the blue, and it had taken Freddie a moment to realise they’d moved on from the band and were now talking about him. “I know we all bicker and want things our own way but – ” He turned to face Freddie, his gaze solemn in the shadowy light. “I really do think you’re brilliant, you know.”

Before Freddie could reply, Brian had reached out and taken one of his hands in his. Freddie looked down at his hand in Brian’s, at his black painted nails against Brian’s white.

“I’m really glad we found you,” Brian told him, hushed and reverent, and Freddie had almost felt tearful even though it was probably the alcohol talking. “You’re exactly what we needed. And you’re – you’re so _beautiful_, Fred.”

That he hadn’t been expecting, but when he looked up at Brian’s face Brian only met his eye for a brief moment, borderline shy and already a bit embarrassed, before he looked away. They’d fallen back into silence after that, but whilst Brian’s had been a sleepy silence, Freddie’s mind had been whirling.

Now, nearly a decade later, Freddie knows Brian has probably forgotten all about that conversation, if he ever remembered it in the first place. Freddie thinks about it all the time, if he’s honest, whenever he catches Brian watching him like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, or when Brian comes far closer than is necessary, or when they’re messing around on stage and there’s a moment – just a moment – where Freddie thinks that maybe the electricity that fizzes between them could actually turn into something.

He’s certainly spent a lot of time thinking about it today. Brian called him beautiful ten years ago, and today he’s called him sexy. Today, Brian’s eyes have followed him religiously as he’s pranced around in this tight little skirt, lingered on the line of the garter around his thigh.

It makes Freddie want to _do_ something about it.

Brian is quick to hurry back to the dressing room at the end of the day, keen to get out of his rollers, but Freddie isn’t to be deterred; he kicks off his heels and snags them up on one finger before following Brian inside. John and Roger can share the other room; Freddie has plans for this one.

“God, my _feet_,” he announces, “women are absolute saints for putting up with this, darling, really they are.”

Brian glances at him in the mirror as he starts to take out the rollers. “Did you enjoy the extra height, at least?” he asks lightly. Freddie swats the back of his head as he passes.

A few members of their entourage hurry in to help them get changed. Freddie says he wants to do it himself, which makes them eye him dubiously, but nobody argues the point. He lets them help him take the wig and earrings off, then ushers them out as he picks up some make-up wipes to deal with the lipstick, declaring that he wants some privacy so he can get changed.

Brian is out of the pink monstrosity and into a pair of jeans at that point; he grabs his t-shirt and makes to leave too, but Freddie stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Where are you going?”

Brian quirks an eyebrow at him. “To give you some privacy to get changed,” he parrots.

Freddie gives him a long measured look. Some small part of him wills him to let Brian go, not to risk their relationship – the _band_ – like this, but a bigger part of him just can’t resist the challenge.

So he steps closer, into Brian’s personal space, until there’s barely an inch between them. “I didn’t want them watching me undress,” he says. “I didn’t say anything about you.”

Brian blinks at him, stupidly pretty with his lovely hazel eyes and his lovely long eyelashes. He looks confused and Freddie wonders for a moment how someone so clever can be so dense.

“Why would I – ?” he begins, then cuts off. Freddie watches him swallow. “Why would you – ”

“Why would you want to watch me undress? Maybe because you’ve been staring at me in this get up all day?” Freddie drawls, and he can’t help but feel slightly delighted at Brian’s telling flush. “As for why I would want it – let’s not lie to each other, darling, it’s never been one hundred percent platonic between us, has it?”

It’s a gamble. He’s not sure about this part – but at the same time there’s all those lingering looks, the intensity of a shared mic, Brian’s knee between his thighs during countless concerts and endless guitar solos. There’s _you’re beautiful_, and _you look sexy._

It works. Brian swallows again but he doesn’t deny Freddie’s words. Freddie grins. He reaches out and grabs Brian’s hands, guides them to his own hips and then down, letting Brian feel the smooth cool material of the skirt, the contrasting warmth of his skin where the top of his thighs are exposed above the garter.

“Freddie…”

“What? Just say it, Bri, whatever it is. You can talk to me,” Freddie murmurs. Their faces are so close they’re nearly touching, so Freddie dares lean in just a little closer and presses a tiny chaste kiss to the corner of Brian’s mouth.

The effect is immediate; Brian gives a little groan and kisses Freddie properly. One hand comes up to cup Freddie’s jaw and the other stays holding his hip but Freddie barely registers any of that because _Brian is kissing him._

Freddie brings his hands up, one looping over Brian’s shoulder and the other resting on his chest as the kiss goes on – and on and on and on, Brian’s mouth getting rougher on his with every second. He backs Freddie up against the dressing table and Freddie breaks off the kiss to swear into Brian’s mouth as the sharp edge of the table digs into his spine.

“Sorry,” Brian says, but all Freddie can focus on is how red Brian’s mouth looks, lips parted and slightly swollen and _Freddie did that_ and he wants to do it _more_.

He pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the dressing table and drags Brian closer by the loops on his jeans, bringing their mouths together again. Brian kisses him back eagerly, his hands properly wandering this time – twisting into Freddie’s hair, cupping the padded bra Freddie’s wearing, curling a finger around the bra strap and then going down to his ass, one hand sliding up along Freddie’s thigh until his fingers meet lace –

Freddie pulls back again, trying to wriggle out of the skirt to make it easier for them both, and Brian actually tries to follow him this time, leaning in to re-capture his mouth with an insistent noise. Freddie laughs, breathless. “Give me a minute, darling – ”

The noise Brian makes doesn’t sound particularly patient but he settles for kissing along the crook of Freddie’s neck as Freddie gives up on trying to get the skirt off and instead just pulls it up, ruching it around his waist.

Brian lifts his head, his eyes going straight to the lacy pink thong that has just come into sight. It’s tiny and delicate – pretty, Freddie had decided when he’d picked it out to wear, but with Brian’s eyes huge and dark and fixed on it, he doesn’t think it will stay pretty for long.

“Fucking hell, Freddie,” Brian says. His voice sounds ragged; his hand comes out then stops, hovering just above Freddie’s crotch. “Can I - ?”

Freddie grabs his hand in response and brings it down, lets Brian feel him through the lace. They groan together, Brian’s forehead tipping forwards to rest against Freddie’s. They haven’t even _done_ anything but they’re both breathing hard.

“I want,” says Brian, and then stops, swallowing as he tries to find the right words. “I want to…”

“What?” Freddie nudges the lacy material of the thong aside and then entwines his fingers with Brian’s, wrapping both their hands around his cock. It feels so good, just that, and it makes him want so much _more_. “What do you want, Brian?”

“I want to fuck you,” Brian says, and Freddie can’t help the way his hips twitch up to follow the movements of their hands on his cock, or the hungry little noise that escapes him at Brian’s words. “Fuck, Freddie, when you walked out wearing this, I thought – I couldn’t stop thinking, all day, imagining it – ”

“What were you imagining?” Freddie is nearly panting and he should probably be embarrassed by it but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s Brian.

“Imagining having you over that sofa,” Brian groans, “bending you over it and pulling your skirt up. Thought you’d have something like this on underneath, I _know_ you. So fucking pretty, Fred, all dressed up for me. Wanted to hear you moan my name – ”

“Brian,” Freddie breathes.

“_Fuck_,” says Brian and he kisses him again, hard and ruthless, one hand moving on Freddie’s cock whilst the other creeps between his legs, slides under the curve of his ass and -

There’s a knock at the door.

They spring apart like they’ve been electrocuted and Brian’s already halfway across the room, lunging for his t-shirt again like it makes a blind bit of difference whether he has that on or not, when Roger calls out, “Oi, are you decent in there, Fred?”

“Er – no, not just yet,” Freddie calls back hurriedly, “give me a minute! I’ll let you in when I’m ready.”

“Well, hurry, we’re going out for a few drinks.” There’s a pause. “Do you know where Brian is?”

Freddie’s halfway through dragging the pink top over his head; when it’s off he doesn’t miss the hungry way Brian is eyeing him, but he makes himself ignore it and calls back, “No, sorry. I thought he was with you.”

Brian is now making outraged faces at him, because he’s going to have to hide and then sneak out and come up with some excuse as to where he’s been and he probably thinks that’s all very Freddie and not very Brian at all, but, well. He’s just going to have to deal with that.

It’s not exactly the striptease Freddie had planned, but he’s fairly proud of the speedy way he manages to get the tights off without snagging them. When he’s back in his normal clothes he glances in the mirror; his hair is a mess but that can be explained by the wig, and his mouth is all pink but he doesn’t think it looks too suspicious. He’ll just claim the lipstick didn’t come off all that easily if Roger questions it.

He pauses to readjust his jacket so that it hides the mark Brian had been busily sucking into his neck, then gives Brian a helpless look and mouths, “Sorry, darling,” before he disappears out of the door. He snaps it firmly closed behind him before Roger can get a look inside.

When Brian joins them later, he claims one of the rollers got stuck in his hair, and that’s what he has been doing all this time. Freddie notices that he very carefully does not look at Freddie as he says it, but afterwards, when John’s moved on to talking about something funny Ronnie did last week, he glances up at Freddie and gives him that same small secretive smile from earlier.

It sends the same thrill down Freddie’s spine. It says, quite clearly, _later_, and Freddie is just fine with that.

**Author's Note:**

> >:)


End file.
